


I Can See Your...

by quicksparrows



Series: For Emmy – Frederick x Rosella [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M, just describes freddy's body because i can
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 22:58:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4979884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksparrows/pseuds/quicksparrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frederick wears very small swimming briefs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can See Your...

**Author's Note:**

> For Emmy, as always.

Frederick comes out from behind the change room curtain, bold and confident, and Rosella momentarily swoons at the sight of him shirtless. Given his commitment to collared shirts and tailored breeches by day and love of full pajama sets and housecoats and slippers by night, she so seldom gets to admire him nude in full sunlight. His pecs are taut and high, and his arms are defined and powerful. She almost reaches to touch him out of some primal, groping instinct.

Then her eyes drop to his groin.

"Are you... Are you going out in that?!" she squeaks.

Then again, how could she have expected any differently? Of course Frederick would wear beach attire like this. _Of course._ What else would be possibly wear? His sculpted thighs are exposed to the joint, the cut of the back high enough to show the slightest bit of refined derrière, and his groin...

Well, Rosella looks at the prominent outline of his cock in those little swimming briefs and a part of her dies and floats away into the atmosphere. 

"What's wrong with this?" Frederick asks, the picture of naivety. He's out of touch with young people, in some ways, ignorant to how young women might cringe at the sight of a man in such tiny briefs. But not Rosella –– Rosella _likes_ it. 

Sort of.

Rosella fans herself frantically and turns away from him.

"N-nothing," she says, still a pitch too high. "It's fine..."

"Rosella," Frederick says, vaguely concerned. He steps closer and he reaches to place a hand on her shoulder, and Rosella feels the flush of her face go right up to her hairline.

"Ha... Ha ha..."

He turns her, a deliriously cute little gesture that has her twirling in his arms, and she winds up so close to him that his generous package gently bumps her hip. She giggles again.

"It's just that I've never seen you in swimwear," she says. "Ever!"

He chuckles, warm and low.

"Is that what this is about?" he hums. "It's not much different from my braies, in my mind."

"Your braies are so... loose," Rosella says. Her eyes dip down the line of his abs, to where the waistband of his swimming briefs rest low enough that she can see the defined line of his hips. She imagines sliding her fingers in that space, the warmth of his skin. She's allowed to think that, because he's her husband. Her eyes widen a little more, and she adds: "These are so... fitted..."

Frederick glances down, too.

"Do you think they're _too_ tight?"

Rosella breathes in a little sharply, looking down at the somewhat intimidating bulge currently inches from her skin. 

"Maybe a little," she says. "I mean, I can see your..."

"Really?" Frederick says, suddenly concerned. "I had them tailored recently, knowing we would be in a beach area... I wanted to be prepared."

"They look wonderful!" Rosella says, quickly, "but that's a lot of... you know."

She can see it now: Frederick walking out of the cabin, all confident and, if she's right, clueless. Heads will turn. Lissa and Chrom will immediately look away, eyes bugging out of their head, faces paling. The men will look at him with a mix of admiration and intimidation: _it's Frederick._ Women will almost invariably be intimidated: _it's Frederick's junk._

Rosella wonders if maybe she can just stand in front of him the entire time, that aforementioned junk pressing into the base of her spine as she shields him from view and judgement and gawking. He is shameless, but she isn't.

"A lot of?" Frederick says.

"A lot of!" Rosella makes a bit of a hand gesture. Huge, gargantuan. She gestures down at the space between his thighs with a wide-eyed giggle and she says: "I think I can see every... inch."

"I think it is just fine," Frederick says, with his usual confidence, a laissez-faire indifference that says: _I do not care what people think of my well-tailored, immaculately-fitted attire, I care what they think of my duty and what I do in the line of service._

Also: _My body is a finely-sculpted tool, carefully manicured and maintained for warfare, for the swing of an axe and the pleasure of my wife._

Rosella giggles again, just because, both hands over her mouth.

"Okay," she says.

He kisses her cheek with a smile.

"Well, shall we?" he says.

He offers her a hand, and she takes it. He turns his eyes ahead of them and she glances at him sidelong, just to look at the snug waistband and how it settles barely an inch above the curve of his ass. 

And so they step out into the open air of the beach, to a very lovely afternoon.


End file.
